Strike Two
by karolinaizabela
Summary: Santana's life feels like it's falling apart as the day to her arranged marriage to Sam approaches. The night before her wedding day, Santana takes refuge at the local lesbian strip club, where she falls under the spell of a gorgeous, mysterious blonde dancer.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Here goes my first fic. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while, and I'm finally getting around to doing it. I hope you guys enjoy. Reviews and constructive criticism very welcome. xoxo**

**Chapter one**

It was safe to say that Santana had been freaking out. She was supposed to be getting married tomorrow; to a man she had no feelings or attraction towards. This was a complete disaster, and she only had her own father to blame. Who, in this day and age, still arranged marriages? It was completely ridiculous, but there was just no getting through to him. _'A deal is a deal, Mija. You'll learn to love him, I promise.'_ That was his explanation for forcing his youngest daughter to marry against her will. What hurt the most, however, was that she didn't feel comfortable enough to tell him the truth: that she would never, ever love Sam. Not because he wasn't nice and caring; oh no, he was an amazing man, and if circumstances were different, Santana was sure she'd eventually end up falling for him. But Santana wasn't into guys, and that's something she couldn't change. And even if she could, she wasn't sure if she'd even want to.

Not wanting to freak out too much, the Latina decided to go out for a bit and clear her mind. She didn't even bother to take her phone with her – she really didn't need to be distracted right now – and just shoved her house keys and purse into her bag, before grabbing her car keys and driving away.

She wasn't sure where exactly it was that she wanted to go, she just knew that she needed to relax and take a breather. After aimlessly driving around town for an hour or two, her mind wandered to a conversation she had with her best friend Quinn a while back. She mentioned something about a lesbian strip club that was apparently well worth the money. Stopping by the side of the road, the brunette typed _Strike Two_ into her satnav and sped away towards the destination as soon as the page was loaded. If there was one way she could be sure she'd be more relaxed, it was this. It didn't take her a long time to get to the club; she parked at the back of the parking lot, just in case someone could somehow trace her here – she didn't need anyone following her and creating drama for her and her father. She just wanted some time for herself.

Walking into the club, the caramel skinned girl felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Looking around for a moment, she knew that watching a few pretty girls strip wouldn't be enough for tonight. And when a certain blonde beauty caught her eye, she knew she was the one. "How much for her?" Santana asked quietly pointing towards the mysterious girl, as she approached the man who seemed to be in charge around here. He answered immediately and the sum suggested actually made her jaw drop. But she didn't care, she needed this. Taking out her purse from her bag, she reached for a bill of notes and passed it to the guy without a word, her eyes now glued to the girl that would soon be hers.

Not wanting to interrupt the blonde or her act, Santana waited patiently, watching her from the corner she had slowly strolled to, with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk dancing on her lips. A half hour had passed, but it went by so fast it might as well have been five minutes. The Latina hadn't moved from her spot once, afraid to miss even one tiny movement of the dancer's body.

The blonde had a smile as she walked off the stage; it was so clear she loved her job and that drew the Latina in even more. The guy she had talked to and paid earlier was making his way to the mystery woman, his face all business and no pleasure. A stern boss. The dancer looked him dead in the eye as he dragged her away to the other side of the room to talk. Her face looked intense and concentrated for half a second, before she stared nodding with an even bigger smile than she had on before. The blonde's piercing blue eyes scanned the room and landed on Santana. She froze, her breath hitching in her throat. Even being across the room, she made the Latina's skin crawl.

The blonde sent a smile in Santana's direction, quickly mumbled something to her manager and started making her way over to the brunette. Even from the way she walked, you could tell that she was excellent at her job. Her body screamed seduction and every step she took towards Santana made her chest burn with anticipation.

"My name's Chastity," she murmured, closing in on the Latina, her long pale arms snaking their way around her waist. "And I will be your stripper for tonight." Her thin lips curled into a smirk before pressing herself tightly against the brunette, enveloping her mouth with her own. Santana's chests nearly exploded with the sudden, crazy beat of her heart. She didn't waste any time, kissing back hard, running her hands up Chastity's long, lean back, then scratching her way down. "Should we take this somewhere a little bit more intimate?" The taller girls whispered against Santana's lips, not really waiting for an answer as she grabbed her hand tightly, dragging her off into one of the many rooms available in the establishment.

It was one of the most private rooms in the building, Santana made sure of that in a very brief chat with the manager when she paid him for Chastity's services for the night. The walls were covered in a red, padded velvet and the room was surrounded by black couches of the same material. In the middle of the chamber stood a stray bed, covered in black and red silky covers, everything colour coordinated. Santana's eyes managed to look around the room only for a few seconds before her attention was brought back to the blonde beauty whose time she paid so much for. She'd been saying something.

Santana cleared her throat, scanning the blonde's body from head to toe. "What…?" she asked for clarification, giving her a slightly sheepish smile, only to get an even brighter one from Chastity.

"What's your name?" she repeated, closing the door behind them and pushing the Latina against it with slight force. Seizing her wrists with lean fingers, the blonde pinned Santana's arms high above her head, trailing a soft line on her neck with the tippy top of her nose and placing a hot, open mouthed kiss at the base of her jaw.

The Latina's knees weakened, Chastity's grip on her arms the only thing keeping her upright. Closing her eyes tightly, Santana sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, biting to stifle a moan. "S-Santana." She managed, as the dancer's lips and teeth danced along her jaw, and down her neck. Chastity set fire to Santana's skin wherever she touched it, and the brunette couldn't remember feeling this way in a really long time, despite the current circumstances. She knew this meant nothing; paying for someone's touch, but it still made her feel more alive than Sam ever could.

Chastity smirked against Santana's skin, making it crawl with goose bumps. "That's pretty." She murmured, biting into the brunette's neck, only to smooth it over with the hot flesh of her tongue.

At this point, the darker skinned girl felt the need of control burning through her veins. She wriggled out of Chastity's grip, grabbing the blonde's hips and kissing her hard. With passion and desire guiding her, Santana took steps forward until the back of the dancer's legs met the edge of the bed, making them tumble over. The Latina smirked, pushing Chastity further onto the bed, straddling her stomach. The blonde wasn't wearing much; a cute black corset and lace-y underwear that connected to a pair of stockings. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to drive Santana crazy. Trailing her hands up Chastity's covered stomach, she cupped her breasts, squeezing as she leaned over to kiss down the blonde's neck and chest.

Responding quickly to the Latina's desperate moves, the blonde didn't waste time reaching for pants, undoing and taking them off in a matter of seconds. She didn't usually let herself feel anything towards any of her clients, but the way the brunette's body moved and connected with hers made her breath hitch in her throat. Chastity knew what her clients usually liked hearing and the sweet nothings that she always whispered into their ears came to her tongue naturally, but with Santana, it was different. When she murmured "you're breath-taking" in the middle of taking off the Latina's shirt, it wasn't rehearsed. It wasn't something she said many times a day. It was new.

Smiling briefly, Santana took in the compliment, not letting it get to her head. Chastity's corset was bound together by three bows at the front of the ensemble. Heading for the top one, she unwrapped the blonde like a present, one bow at a time.

Stifled groans and hushed whispers accompanied the exploration of their bodies. Soon all clothes were on the floor and sweaty, excited bodies merged together in a series of moans, whimpers and shudders. They pulled hair, bit skin, scratched backs and pumped fingers until both of them were too exhausted to even move an eyelid.

* * *

><p>When Santana opened her eyes again, she was laying underneath the satin black covers, but the place in the bed where Chastity was not too long ago, was cold and empty. A small note on her pillow made the Latina frown. <em>Didn't have the heart to wake you, felt like you needed this. Have a good one. –Chast. <em>A small smile crept onto Santana's lips as she folded the note and started getting out of bed. Gathering her clothes, she got dressed and made sure her hair and make-up were perfect before she even thought about leaving the room. Nothing about her appearance could even remotely suggest where she had been tonight, especially considering she had to go back to her father's house to avoid seeing the groom the night before the wedding.

Putting her previously folded note into her jean pocket, Santana left the room, welcomed by a nearly empty club. It must have been later than she had realised, and they were closing up. Scanning the place, she hoped she would manage to catch a glimpse of Chastity, but to no avail. A little surprised by her disappointment, Santana looked around once again. The club looked different than it had when she first got here; it lacked the spark it had when Chastity was on stage calling all eyes to her. This late it seemed a bit sad and bare.

With a slightly unhappy sigh, the Latina left the club and made for her car, with a strong intention of coming back here and seeing the blonde beauty again. She didn't care, at this point, that tomorrow she would be marrying someone she didn't love or that she was being forced to spend the rest of her life in a passionless marriage. Her mind was filled with images of Chastity, and somehow that made everything a tiny bit better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thanks for all the positive comments on my last chapter, I'm glad you guys like the idea! This chapter is a bit longer and I'm getting more of a feel of where I'm going with this story! Continue being awesome, guys. Please review. Peace and love. xoxo**

**Chapter Two**

"_Good morning sunshine." Chastity murmured, a tray filled with breakfast food and coffee in her hands, and a grin on her lips. Her loose tank top and skimpy shorts didn't leave much to the imagination, and Santana wasn't sure which she was looking forward to more; the breakfast or getting her hands on her girlfriend's body. Chastity practically skipped over to the bed and somehow managed to jump on it without spilling one drop of the coffee she made for Santana, or the orange juice she always got for herself. "You are one talented lady." The Latina chuckled, giving Chastity a quick peck on the lips as the blonde placed the tray safely on the bed._

_Chastity was a really good cook, despite finding recipes confusing. She mostly just threw things together and hoped for the best, somehow ending up with the tastiest meals. Not long after bringing over the tray, Santana had already engulfed all the bacon strips and the scrambled eggs the blonde had prepared._

"_What's the plan for today?" The Latina smiled, leaning over to place another peck to the blonde's lips. She took the tray, putting it away on their bedside table and pulling the blonde closer to her. Brushing her fingertips along Chastity's arm, Santana smiled as she felt goose bumps following her touch. She hadn't been this happy in a really long time, and she owed it all to the dancer nestled in her arms. She was much taller than Santana, but right now, curled up in her arms, she felt tiny and vulnerable._

_The blonde's head rose from Santana's chest, and Chastity looked her dead in the eye. The smile always painted on her face slowly turned into a smirk, but not of the good kind. She looked malicious, dark. Her eyes filled with fire as her face inched closer, her hot breath tickling Santana's lips. The Latina gulped, and her breath sped up despite her efforts to keep calm._

_Closing her eyes, Chastity took a deep breath, and when she opened them up again, they were pitch black, a malevolent smile gracing her otherwise loving lips. "Surprise, bitch." The blonde spoke, but her voice wasn't her own. It was deeper, and Santana recognised it immediately. Sam's voice rumbled again from Chastity's throat and her hand rose high, coming down again with great speed as it made a loud connection with the Latina's caramel cheek._

"What the fuck?!" Santana exclaimed, raising to a sitting position, clutching her cheek where Chastity had slapped her. The brunette's face was covered in water, and as she looked over, neither Chastity nor Sam were present by her side. Confusion took over her facial features. Santana looked around her room, her palm still cupping the side of her face as her eyes landed on her father's figure holding an empty glass which contents now covered Santana and her bed; her frown deepened. "Papí?"

"Where have you been, Santana?" his voice was stern. Santana let go of her cheek and pulled her duvet up to her chin, covering her body. "You reek of alcohol."

Santana closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and hanging her head. She could barely remember enough of last night to be able to answer her father's question. She remembered being at Strike Two, but much of what happened afterwards was a blur. She knew she didn't stick to just going straight home, she could feel last night's adventures in every aching part of her body.

Right after leaving the club and feeling much better about everything because of Chastity, Santana sat in her car at the back of the parking lot a little bit too long than she should have before leaving. Thoughts she would never let herself think otherwise came into her mind, and she spent a good twenty minutes panicking about and overthinking her life-to-be. Before she knew it, she was heading to the only club she knew would still be open at this time of night. She didn't waste time once she got there; she was somewhat of a regular ever since she found out about her arranged marriage. As soon as she walked into the club, she was greeted with grins and friendly hellos. The bartender was pretty much waiting with her usual order of shots, salt and lime. As if that wasn't enough to clear the Latina's mind, she managed to get invited to a house party straight after the last call at the club.

She couldn't remember how or what time she stumbled home, but she could feel the effects of last night now, and it wasn't a pretty picture. When the thought of having to marry Sam crossed her mind briefly, it gave her even more of a headache than she already had. "Holy fuck." She mumbled, rubbing her temples and pulling her duvet high over her head, hoping she could just hide from today.

"Language, Santana!" her father grumbled, pulling the covers off her body harshly. "Get out of bed and sober up. You have to start getting ready, and soon." His voice was harsh and she knew he wasn't kidding about. Santana hadn't exactly been easy going when it came to this topic, but she knew this day would come eventually and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, no matter how hard she wished it. There wasn't a prince – or in her case, princess – on a white horse that would come and save her. She only had herself, and herself wasn't enough to stop this.

Slowly pushing herself off the bed, Santana stumbled once her feet touched the ground, having to steady herself on the wall. Today wasn't going to be easy, especially in the state she was in right now.

Hearing a loud bang of the door, the Latina knew her father had angrily left the house, probably to go on a drive and help clear his head of his horrible youngest daughter who 'had so much potential.' Not long after, three pairs of soft footsteps approached her door, and a tiny knock sounded. Sighing loudly and rubbing her eyes, Santana mumbled a quick "come in," before making her way to her en suite bathroom.

Managing the essentials, the Latina left the bathroom some time later feeling slightly better about herself. Her sisters and mother were sat on her bed, concerned looks taking over their faces. Apart from her father, her family understood the way Santana was taking the whole situation and were there for her, especially her sisters. Giving them a faint smile, Santana didn't have to explain anything else before her little team of helpers started getting everything ready for her 'big day.'

Before she knew it, Santana had taken a shower, her hair and make-up were done and she was in the midst of putting on her wedding dress.

"You look beautiful, baby…" the brunette's mother whispered, an underlining of a sad tone taking over her voice as she pulled a tissue out of a box and dabbed it at the corners of her eyes. She was ready for this wedding, in at least one sense of the word. Santana's sisters and mother approached her and gathered her in a group hug, tight enough for her to feel their love and support, yet soft enough to ensure the safety of her wedding dress. The Latina rolled her eyes and smiled faintly.

"Thank you, for everything." She murmured, looking at each of them in turn, kissing their cheeks. She owed them a lot; they might not have helped her escape the impending doom of her arranged marriage, but they were always there for her. They understood and always did what they could.

She could still feel the effects of last night but the pounding in her head had gotten weaker and less frequent. Short flash backs of last night kept popping into her mind, and she couldn't will them away. She didn't want to be thinking about Chastity, nor what the thought of marrying Sam makes her do. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life; instead, she is getting a day she will always regret not fighting and one that makes her want to drink her weight in tequila. Ideal.

* * *

><p>The wedding was fast. Or maybe it just seemed that way because Santana was pretty sure she blacked out through most of it, only being present enough to do what she was supposed to at the right time; the vowels, the I do's, exchange of rings and the dreaded newlyweds kiss. She remembered walking down the aisle and wishing she was walking down a plank that lead into a whirlpool of crocodiles. She remembered Sam's cologne being too powerful; like he was trying too hard. She remembered the roughness of his hands as he took hers and she remembered the stupid way in which a random strand of his hair kept falling into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.<p>

They walked into their reception, hand in hand. They were greeted by smiling faces and applause, like marrying each other was some sort of achievement. Maybe for Sam, it was; there were many people of both genders that Santana knew wanted to be with her. She was a catch, and everyone knew that. Sam had done well. Her, on the other hand? This wasn't what she wanted at all.

In between all the eating and dancing that comes along with a wedding, somehow Santana managed to loosen up; she was stuck living this for the rest of her life, so she might as well enjoy the one day of what is about to come, during which she could drink and dance herself silly and no one would question it. A few more shots in, and it was Santana who was dragging the blonde boy into the middle of the dancefloor, making him swirl and twirl her around to the beat of a Latin song.

She could always tell that Sam loved her a lot; he always tried to make her happy, even after he realised that he probably wasn't what she was looking for in a partner. She didn't think he knew that she was gay, probably just thinking she didn't want to marry him because he was too nerdy, or because she was forced to. Bless his soul.

As the song changed to a slower pace, Sam wrapped his arms around the Latina's waist, pulling her closer, and for once, she didn't cringe at the idea. She followed his direction, gently laying her head on his shoulder. "You look so gorgeous and sexy tonight." Sam whispered into her ear, slowly sliding his hands to cup her ass cheeks. Santana gasped softly, swatting his hands away as quickly as she could, without drawing too much attention to what she had done. This she wasn't ready for.

It had been almost four months since she met Sam. They met back then to get to know each other; go on a few dates, everything arranged by their families. They were made to live with each other not long after that, just to "see what it's like". She knew it was her father's idea in order to get her to get used to living with him; maybe then she wouldn't protest so much. During those few months, he'd tried. Made moves on her, made romantic dinners and gestures… but she could never get through with it. The idea alone, of sleeping with a man, now that she accepted who she was, seemed absurd. She just couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Sam." She mumbled, taking a few steps back, feeling a slight pinch in her chest seeing the look on his face; confusion and hurt took over his usually cheery expression.

Turning on her heel, Santana ran out of the wedding hall and out of the building all together, needing some fresh air. Propping herself on one of the pillars outside, she took a couple deep breaths, feeling goose bumps rising on her skin as she got hit by a cold breeze. It felt good, it helped her clear her mind. Swiping away some dirt from one of the steps leading up to the main door, the Latina sat down, hid her face between her knees and tangled her fingers in her hair. Minutes past, and Santana slowly started trembling with the cold, but it wasn't enough to want to make her go back inside. She couldn't face everyone, especially Sam, knowing what he was probably expecting from tonight considering she was his new bride.

"You really shouldn't be sitting on these steps with no jacket… You'll catch a cold or worse, dirty your dress." A soft mumble came from the darkness ahead of Santana, and soon a figure came to light. A tall, blonde girl whom the Latina recognised immediately. She came closer, taking off her own coat and gently placing it on Santana's shoulders.

The Latina's eyes widened, still not believing it. "Chastity… what are you doing here?" she frowned, accepting the jacket against her better judgement.

"I saw your picture in the paper when Sugar was reading it this morning; she said you were getting married to a man, which confused me, because you came to a lebanese strip club and we had great sweet lady kisses. So I came to check it out." She shrugged, sitting next to Santana. "Is it true?"

Santana sighed, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have come here, Chastity. I can't be seeing you right now." She mumbled, beginning to shrug off the blonde's jacket. Being around her for even this short amount of time, especially today, hurt too much. It reminded her of everything she could possibly want, but would never get.

"Is it because you want more sweet lady kisses?" Chastity asked, and her sudden innocence threw Santana off. This wasn't the same girl she remembered from last night; the other girl was wild, and sexy and seductive until it hurt. This girl… she was sweet, and innocent and resembled an angel. Swallowing hard, the Latina didn't even have energy for a snide remark. She just shook her head again, placed the jacket back on Chastity's shoulders and started making her way up the stairs. "Goodbye, Chastity."

"It's Brittany." A soft voice came from behind her, making Santana momentarily slow her pace, turning her head to quickly glance at the blonde for an explanation. "My name's Brittany." The blonde said again, a little louder this time.

Giving her a small, sad smile, Santana nodded and turned back around, continuing up the stairs. "Goodbye, Brittany." She murmured, just loud enough for the blonde to hear, before making her way through the door and disappearing into the building.

* * *

><p>Walking back into the wedding hall, Santana was dragged into a side chamber by her best friend Puck, as soon as she step foot in the room. "Where the hell have you been, San? Do you know how hard it is making up excuses for your disappearance and hitting on ladies all at the same time? You're weakening my game!" he exclaimed, but the grip he had on her arm loosened and he softly rubbed her shoulder. He was too much of a man to simply say he was worried about her. That was Puck's charm.<p>

"I'm fine, Puckerman. Go back to hitting on the bridesmaids." She gave him a reassuring smile, pushing him into the general direction of the crowd. That wasn't something she wanted to discuss right now.

Knowing she needed to get involved in her wedding again, Santana grabbed a shot from the alcohol table, downed it quickly and enjoyed the burning in her throat as she made her way onto the dancefloor just as the band announced a bride/father and groom/mother dance. Perfect.

Santana was an expert at making fake smiles look natural. Wrapping her arms around her father's shoulders, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder; if there was one thing she could count on from him, it was that he would never fail leading a dance. The song they were dancing to, passed quicker than Santana would have thought, and as the next song came on, they were still slowly moving to the rhythm of the music. The Latina felt a disturbance in their calmness when her father lifted his head, surprised.

"May I cut in?" Brittany's voice echoed from behind his stern figure, and Santana could feel her throat close up. What the hell was she doing? Santana's father looked down on his daughter with slight surprise glinting in his eyes, but stepped away nonetheless.

Brittany's hands slipped around the Latina's waist, their gentle embrace pulling her in.

A small gasp left Santana's lips and for a moment she was literally breathless. "What… what are you doing, Cha- Brittany…? You know you can't be here. If anyone knew who you were…" she shook her head, unable to even fathom the consequences.

"I think you've made a mistake, Santana. I don't know your life, or who you are outside of that club, but… it just doesn't feel right. If it was, you'd be dancing with him right now, not me." She mumbled, slowly sliding her hands up the brunette's tiny waist, her touch electrifying, and Santana couldn't help but appreciate the difference of Brittany's hands in comparison to Sam's earlier. "Can we talk?" she whispered, her lips dangerously close to Santana's ear. The smaller girl swore she was losing the ability to think clearly by the second. Without much thought or realisation, the Latina nodded, grabbing Brittany's hand and pulling her towards the room which Puck had dragged her to before.

As soon as they were behind closed doors, Santana let out a long, deep breath. Rubbing her temples, she shook her head, looking at the blonde. "God, I can't be doing this!" Irritation and anger were suddenly taking over any other emotions she may have been feeling a few seconds before. "You can't just prance in here, telling me my life isn't what it should be! You met me yesterday, at a goddamn strip club! You know nothing about my life. Nothing." Santana's caramel cheeks turned a burgundy colour and her hands were flying about around her, gesturing her every word. "It's not right." She spoke sternly, her hands falling by her sides, turning into tiny, tight fists of anger.

Brittany didn't seem to be taking in much of what Santana was saying. Her eyes explored the Latina's body, and suddenly she felt naked under the blonde's glare. It made her body temperature rise, and right now she wasn't sure for what reasons.

"You're beautiful." She spoke simply, her voice the softest she'd heard say that compliment today.

Santana's hands loosened, her fingers twitching by her sides. Before she knew it, she was marching towards Brittany, her digits tangled in her blonde hair, her mouth attacking the dancer's lips. It was an angry kiss. Angry at Brittany for showing up here and showing her what she was missing, angry at her father for making her do this, angry at life for dealing her these cards. Her hands travelled down to the blonde's neck and her nails dragged along it as she forcefully pressed her against the wall.

"_Trust me, this place is safe; no one will find us_." A voice sounded awfully close, and before she could even partially remove herself from Brittany, Santana heard the door to the room opening, a sliver of light illuminating their pressed together bodies.

"San…? What the hell?!" Puck's voice took over the room, and at that moment, all Santana could do was close her eyes tightly and mindlessly punch the wall right besides Brittany's head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Thank you to everyone who is supporting this fic and giving reviews, I appreciate it a lot! I've received some questions about why Santana actually went through with this wedding, and that is going to be explained, so please be patient. Anyway, continue being great and reviewing. I love y'all. xoxo**

**Chapter Three**

Santana's hand burst up in flames with sudden, shooting pain going from her knuckles all the way to her upper arm. Closing her eyes tighter, she cursed, retracting her hand and giving it a small shake, which wasn't a good idea. "Mother of God." She swore again, taking some steps away from Brittany's direction and proceeding to curse her pain away under her breath. Today, for Santana, consisted of terrible choices.

She realised there were currently three pairs of eyes set on her, all desperate for some sort of answer in their own way. She could see the betrayal of not telling him anything, in Puck's eyes. She could feel the pain of her actions in Brittany's icy blues. She could understand the curiosity and shock of the woman whom Puck had dragged into the room for what she could only assume would end in a quickie. Santana shamefully realised she was judging Puck for what he was probably about to do at her wedding, before wishing her own disappearance into the ground at the thought of what would have happened between her and Brittany if he hadn't walked in.

Puck's date awkwardly cleared her throat as she clutched onto his arm, shuffling her feet. What was there to say, when you went to a wedding and not only you caught the bride kissing someone else in a hidden chamber, but caught her kissing a woman. Santana couldn't recognise her, which meant she was invited as part of Sam's guests. Closing her eyes again, the Latina breathed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Listen, Puck…" she started, not really sure where she was going with this. She didn't owe him an explanation; yes he was her best friend and she was known for telling him everything, but some things she just didn't want to share. This being one of them. "You didn't see anything." She gave him a stern look, with a tone of finality in her voice. Taking a turn to look at Brittany, she sighed, her tone much softer than towards Puck, when she said "Brittany, I think you should go." Careful to not let her voice crack when she saw the look of hurt on her face, Santana pulled up her dress to her ankles and started making her way out of the room. "And you, mind your business." Her voice once again harsh, as she spoke to the petite brunette still gripping Puck's arm.

Without another word, the Latina left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. She had a disaster wedding to get back to.

Walking back into the wedding hall, she was glad to see no one seemed to particularly notice her absence. If anyone asked, she'd just say she had to go to the bathroom. Refusing to look back to see if either Puck or Brittany had done as she asked, she chose to join in with the conga line currently dancing through the hall.

She danced and laughed, and pretended to enjoy herself for the rest of the night, which went by much quicker once she accepted there was nothing she could do to make herself disappear. She hadn't seen Brittany nor Puck for the rest of the night, and assumed the both of them hadn't felt like sticking around, which she understood. She hadn't been the best friend, but she had enough on her plate right now, without them getting on her case, too. She was good at pretending she didn't care about anyone but herself, and right now was her best performance yet.

The night was closing in and the guests slowly started dispersing, leaving the newlyweds partially dancing partially saying their goodbyes, and their families gathering up to leave. "You kids have fun, don't stay here too late; tomorrow is a big day!" Sam's parents chimed, referring to the honeymoon, giving their boy a tight hug and Santana cheek kisses. The Latina's parents followed suit, and soon enough, the bride and groom were left alone for the first time since they tied the knot.

"Hey…" Sam gave her a faux shy smile, taking small, innocent looking steps in her direction, but she wasn't buying it. Sam was a wonderful guy, there was no denying it, but there was nothing innocent about the boy. The good thing about him, was that he understood the word no, unlike many men Santana had dealt with time and time before.

Wrapping his arms carefully around her waist, like he was afraid to spook her, the blond pulled her closer, giving her a soft peck which quickly trailed down her jaw and neck in a series of sloppy kisses. Rolling her eyes at the attempt, Santana placed her hands on the man's biceps, squeezing tightly. "We should get going, early morning tomorrow." She insisted, earning a slightly irritated sigh from her husband.

"Come on, Santana. I'm your husband now." He stated, pushing against Santana's objection. She raised her eyebrow. This wasn't like him.

Shaking her head slightly, the Latina grabbed his arms with enough force to let him know he shouldn't mess with her, and brought them to his sides. "I said no, Sam."

Sam's jaw clenched, and from the corner of her eyes, she could see his hands turning into fists. Santana knew she was testing him and this relationship most of the time, especially since her participation in anything to do with Sam is usually minimal. Despite that, she'd never seen the blond loose his patience with her.

Knowing she was pushing it, Santana simply turned on her heel, grabbed her jacket from one of the nearby chairs and proceeded out of the building. They could deal with this at home.

Making her way to the car, the Latina paused only slight at the steps where not long ago Brittany had covered her with her jacket, her innocence and caring surprising to Santana, though it seemed to fit her perfectly. Brittany seemed more herself this time they met, than before. Sure, Santana thought that at the time, the stripper seemed in her element, but now realised that she had to change everything about herself in order to become Chastity.

Minutes passed as Santana sat in the car, waiting for Sam. She hadn't noticed how long it had been, lost in her thoughts, but as she looked over at the radio clock and realised Sam hadn't joined her in over half an hour, she frowned. Dialling his number, she got no answer. She didn't want to leave the car in the slightest, but knew she had to go check on him.

Bracing herself for the cold, the Latina jogged back into the building, just at the same time her husband was leaving. They were both in a hurry, and by the time they saw each other, it was too late to slow down. Bumping into each other, groaning at the same time. Santana rubbed the top of her head, having bumped it into Sam's chin, and it turn, the man rubbed his jaw.

"Careful, Tana." He beamed, and again, Santana frowned. He was back to his cheerful self, as if before hadn't happened. Scanning him, she noticed a small orange bottle clutched tightly in his hand. She decided not to approach it directly.

"What took you so long?" she asked, careful with sounding casual. She didn't want to push any buttons. Sam hadn't seemed to notice, giving her a soft shrug for an answer and starting to head to their car.

"Just had to find something." He answered over his shoulder as she watched him put his pill bottle into the inside pocket of his tux jacket. _What the… _The Latina shook her head in confusion, following the man without another word. He was obviously hiding something, and asking him wasn't the right way of finding out what it was. She could wait.

The ride home was quick and quiet, with the only sound coming in the form of a soft hum from the radio.

It wasn't exactly what you'd expect from a freshly wed couple, but their circumstances were strange, especially for this day and age. The amount of people who gave her the raised eyebrow and showered her with questions when they heard she had an arranged marriage was hard to keep track of. She couldn't ever tell the truth. She could never admit to what she had done, to why her father could make her do anything he could think of.

This marriage arrangement was perfect for him. It was between their family and that of the owner of the company that he worked for. Combining forces, Santana's father was convinced he could somehow end up taking over the company completely. And he needed Santana for it.

She couldn't ever say no. There was no point, he would win. He always won.

"_A deal is a deal, Mija. You'll learn to love him, I promise." Santana's father spoke softly, rubbing her arm. Shaking her head and taking a step back, the Latina looked him straight in the eyes, hers filled with darkness._

"_How could you do this to me? I'm not going through with this, you can't make me." She bellowed, ready to storm out of the room when she felt a tight grip on her upper arm, pulling her back._

_His eyes were small pits of anger, and Santana cowered slightly at the sight of them. "You'll do what I say, Santana. Or have you forgotten about what you've done?! Do you need reminding?!" he thundered, his grip on her arm becoming increasingly forceful. "You killed her, Santana. She's dead, because of you!"_

_Santana's eyes burned, but she refused to cry. Ripped her arm out of his grip, the Latina stormed out of the house, jumping into her car and speeding away towards the only place she knew would help. Not long after, she was parked outside her best friend's house, too weak to leave the car and actually walk up into his house. Reaching for her phone, she simply dialled his number and gave him a missed call. Not a minute later, she saw his head popping out of his bedroom window, a frown on his face._

"_What the hell, San?" his voice full of worry as he sat down in the passenger seat._

_The Latina didn't waste any time in pouring her heart out to the mohawked man, giving up trying not to cry around two minutes in. Knowing that telling her that everything was going to be okay wouldn't help, Puck wrapped his arms tightly around the tiny Latina girl, pulling her close. He rubbed her back and whispered sweet nothings into her ear until she stopped crying._

"_It's going to be okay, San. I've got you." He murmured, kissing her cheek and pulling her in as she laid her head on his shoulder, drying her eyes._

_They stayed like that for a while, not saying anything. Sighing softly, the Latina laid her palm on her best friend's chest, lifting herself off. "Thank you, for everything." She mumbled, offering a faint smile. "You're the best." She whispered, and without thinking, she leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that surprised them both._

_Pulling away a few seconds after, she looked at him with shock glinting in her eyes as Puck brushed his bottom lip with his thumb in surprise. He gave her a puzzled look, not knowing what to say. He'd dreamt of this moment, but knew it would never happen, because Santana was gay. Right?_

"_I'm sorry." Her voice trembled, backing herself as far away from him as possible without leaving the car. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't' have done that." She shook her head, hiding her face in her palms. She was so stupid. Puckerman was the only stable person in her life, and she was ruining it. She didn't mean to kiss him. She didn't want to. She knew that he'd always had a crush on her but never made a move, out of respect for their friendship and her life choices._

"_It's okay, I understand. You're just upset." He shrugged, straightening up. "But I should go. You're gonna be okay, San. I believe in you." He gave her a slightly sad smile, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and left._

_Santana sat there for a few more minutes, before driving again once again, this time not so sure where she was heading._

The Latina had been so lost in thought, she hadn't even realised they were already back at their apartment. Sam was by her side, opening her door and holding out his hand for her to take. "M'lady." He mumbled with a charming smile as she left the car and they headed for the house.

Sam didn't try again that night. Once they got inside, he packed for their honeymoon, undressed and went to bed with only a quick peck to Santana's temple before leaving her. Soon after, once she had packed herself, the brunette got into bed, and fell asleep to the thoughts of a certain tall blonde and the few weeks she'd be spending away from her taking over her mind.

* * *

><p>It had been two weeks since the wedding incident. Brittany was still kicking herself about that, how could she have been so stupid? She didn't know this woman. She had met her once and decided to gate crash her wedding? So stupid. She physically kicked herself in the shin, wincing only slightly.<p>

Getting ready for work had been taking her longer than usual, her mind preoccupied more than always. She had been infatuated with her clients before, but never like this. She wasn't even supposed to be doing the things she had done with Santana, but she couldn't help herself. She wasn't supposed to be thinking about someone she didn't even know two weeks after seeing them, either, but here she was, sitting in her dressing room and trying to pick out an outfit for the stage tonight for the past half an hour.

Sugar Motta entered the room, with only a slight knock announcing her entrance. "Britt are you ready? You're on in ten." She frowned softly when she saw the blonde sitting on her stool with only her lingerie on. Sighing, she walked over to her clothing rack and picked out an outfit that she knew Brittany loved. "Let me help you out." She mumbled, walking over to the taller girl, grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

Brittany had been keeping a secret, something that had been eating at her for the past two weeks. She couldn't tell anyone, that was never an option. She always wanted to, but it was against the rules, and she knew it. It was all she thought about, and people seemed to notice. She was no longer the go-to girl at Strike Two. People didn't stare at her in a way that burned holes in her skin.

At this point, she didn't know if she was feeling this way because she became a worse version of herself because of everything that happened, or because she didn't feel like any touch, or any look compared to the one Santana had given her weeks before.

"I slept with one of my clients." The blonde suddenly burst out, earning a shocked look and a soft gasp from Sugar.

Sugar's brows furrowed, and she sat down with her arms dramatically clutching her chest. "Brittany, how could you?! Do you know how much trouble you could get into for this? It's like, totally against the rules."

The blonde had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and opted for doing it inside her head instead. Out of all the people she could have told this to, she knew Sugar wasn't the right one, but it just came out. She felt vulnerable and alone and she had been keeping this in for so long, she couldn't stand it anymore.

"You make my head hurt." The blonde mumbled, taking her eyes away from the smaller girl and rubbing her temples.

If she wanted someone making her feel bad about her choices, she'd just stick to listening to the voice inside her head.

She knew she wasn't supposed to have done what she did, but as soon as she saw the Latina standing there, watching her from afar, she couldn't help herself. She had noticed her staring even when she was still performing on stage and it made her want to dance just that much better, just so Santana would keep looking at her in the same way.

The Latina made her palms sweaty, and she never got that with her clients. She was always calm and composed and she knew what she was doing. She was always in control. Until her.

Santana didn't seem like the type of girl who needed to make trips to a strip club to get some action, and the fact that she didn't protest when Brittany did more than kiss or tease her, only confirmed her assumptions of that being the first time the Latina stepped into a strip joint.

"…tell John!" Brittany's head shot up and she looked at Sugar, confused. Blinking a few times, she continued staring at her in hopes everything the smaller girl had obviously been yelling at her would become clear. No such luck.

"I can't tell anyone, Sugar. And neither can you, okay? I can't lose this job, Lord Tubbington needs a new bed." She exclaimed, as if that was the most logical answer in the world.

Sugar just shook her head and started rambling more about how inappropriate this was on Brittany's part and how she should tell someone but she won't, at least not yet, because she's such a good friend and she knows that Brittany is a good person, blah blah blah. "Thanks, Sugar," was all she managed to say without wanting to punch the smaller girl in the face, and then she proceeded to laugh in her head about the fact that with a name like Sugar, you didn't really need a stripper stage name.

Brittany finished getting herself ready, her clothes and make up intact and walked out into the main room of the building, causing a bit of an uproar. It wasn't anything that she took notice of anymore, this was an everyday reaction for her.

She danced and swayed and teased all night. Girls came and asked for her for any money they could spare and her boss was happy to accept any money that desperate women threw at her for a lap dance. Brittany tried not thinking about Santana all night, but the harder she tried, the more she thought of her.

In every brunette, she saw her. In ever tiny frame, she saw her. Whenever she saw a sliver of caramel coloured skin, Santana filled her mind. She couldn't escape.

The end of the day couldn't come quick enough and when it finally did, Brittany didn't even bother changing out of her work clothes. She threw a jacket onto her shoulders and practically ran out of the place, not looking back. Hopping onto her bike, the blonde rode to her home which thankfully was only ten minutes away.

She needed some peace and quiet accompanied by some beer and a bubble bath.

Entering her house, she headed straight for the fridge, pulling out a beer and immediately took a sip, letting out a content sigh. Spending a few seconds petting Lord Tubbington, she poured some cat food into one of his bowls and watched as she practically swallowed it whole. Walking to the bathroom, she started her bath, making sure to put enough of the bubble maker so that she couldn't see the water. Carefully dipping her toes into the hot water, she stepped in and closed her eyes, smiling to herself. This was exactly what she needed tonight.

Cupping some bubbles into the palm of her hand, Brittany blew, scattering singular bubbles around the room. She grinned to herself. Thinking for a moment, the blonde reached for her phone and dialled a number, putting the phone on loudspeaker and placing it on the edge of her bathtub.

After a few rings, a female voice on the other side of the line, answered. "Hello?"

"Hey mum, it's Britt." She answered, her voice ringing happily across the room.

She could hear the smile in her mother's voice. "Hi baby, it's been so long! How are you, how is life? Tell me everything."

"There's a girl, mum," she mumbled, not being able to hold it in. "And it's really hard, because I can't like her. She's the worst person ever I could like, and I like her, so much. I don't even know her mum, but I can't stop thinking about her. She's so pretty and cute mum and she's with someone who she shouldn't be with, because she should be with me. I could treat her so well, you know?" she realised she was rambling, but she just had to get this off her chest. She hadn't been able to talk about this with anyone else. "I just want to brush hair out of her face and make her dinner and make her happy." She pouted to no one in particular, looking at her receiver and waiting for her mother's answer.

There was a soft sigh at the other end of the line. "Oh baby…" she paused for a moment, surely thinking of what to say. Brittany never called her about these kind of problems before, mainly because she never really had problems with girls.

"If it's meant to happen, it'll happen. You know I believe in destiny, and everything always happening for a reason. If she's with someone else right now, maybe there's a reason for it. Maybe she's happy, or maybe she needs this relationship to realise something or someone better is waiting just around the corner, Britt. You can't push these things, especially in situations like this." She sighed again. "It'll work out in the end baby, I promise." She whispered into the receiver and Brittany nodded, knowing her mother was right.

"It just sucks, Mum." She mumbled back, closing her eyes. Not wanting to trouble her mother longer than she had to, she made an excuse about having to make Tubbs second dinner, and hang up. The dancer stayed in her bath for a couple more minutes, before stepping out and drying off.

It's not like Santana had made any attempts at contacting her or trying to apologise about the way she had treated her when they last saw each other. She wasn't thinking about her, so why should she keep thinking about the Latina? She exhaled, knowing that even when she tried to make herself believe that Santana wasn't worth it, it wouldn't work.

Throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank top, Brittany squeezed another packet of food out for Lord Tubbs, and grabbed a tub of ice cream for herself. Snuggling up with a blanket in front of her TV, she picked out the cheesiest romantic comedy she could find and stayed there for the rest of the night, drowning her sorrows in dairy and mindless television.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Here's another chapter, guys. Thanks for the reviews and feedback! The interest in the fic is really motivational, so keep it up! I keep getting a clearer idea of where this is going with every chapter, so the updates might become more frequent. Anyway, here goes, hope you enjoy :) xoxo**

**Chapter Four**

After coming back from her honeymoon, Santana's week had flown by incredibly fast. While in St Lucia, the newly-weds had agreed to have a cell phone free two weeks, which meant that as soon as they landed back in New York City, the Latina's phone exploded with hundreds of messages. She had urgent meetings and projects that she needed to supervise.

"What a bunch of idiots, they can't do anything themselves!" she complained to Sam while waiting at the baggage claim, rubbing her temple with her free hand.

Having spent two whole weeks with just Sam, gave her some perspective. He was a stand-up guy, and looking at this situation from the perspective of anyone outside of her family members, she was lucky to have him. He was smart, he was handsome, and he was very well off. Many women she knew would kill for a guy like Sam.

However, none of that actually changed her feeling for him. All it did, was make him more tolerable and she actually didn't mind spending so much time with him anymore.

Walking into her office one day after having come back, Santana was approached by around ten different people at the same time, all demanding different things from her. Pausing suddenly, she spread out her arms and slowly turned around, facing them with a highly annoyed look on her face.

"Listen, dumbasses. One thing at a time. It's 7:30 in the morning, I'm just walking in. I haven't even had my goddamn coffee yet. Just," she paused and closed her eyes for dramatic effect. "Let me have a few minutes." She finished before turning back on her heel, and walking into her office, shutting the door loudly behind her.

She didn't need to be a hard ass bitch, but where was the fun in that?

Santana had worked her ass off to get where she was right now. Only twenty-four years old and she was already assistant editor at one of the best known fashion magazines in the country. She allowed herself to act as she pleased, at least in her work place. People respected her here and they valued her opinion. She needed to give them a reason to fear her, or they'd walk all over her.

Setting all her bags down, Santana sat down and pressed the intercom buzzer for her assistant. "Sophie, coffee." She demanded and hang up, a small smirk playing at her lips.

A few minutes later, her assistant knocked softly at her door, an extra hot, extra foam, double shot cappuccino in her hands. "Here you go, Mrs. Evans." She set the cup in front of Santana.

"No, no, no." the Latina raised her hand in protest, shaking her head. "None of this Mrs. Evans crap. I'm Santana Lopez. I've always been Miss Lopez here, and that's not gonna change. If anyone else is trying to be a suck up, you can feel free to tell them that if I hear anyone calling me that, they're gonna get fired on the spot." She raised her eyebrow as she waited for the expected nod from Sophie. "Okay, good. Now please let the first person in."

A nervous looking intern who had been jumping to get a word in when she was coming in, stepped foot in her office, not sure what to do with himself now that he was actually here.

"Uh, good morning Miss Lopez." He mumbled, wiping the palms of his hands on his black jeans. "I'm just here to confirm that these are the models you want to use for the next edition." The guy whose name she couldn't remember placed a file folder full of pictures on her desk, waiting patiently.

Santana sighed, opened the folder and started flicking through the head-shots.

Most of them weren't half bad and some of them were faces she recognised from previous editions.

Going through the head-shots, she recognised one and immediately flung it at her young intern. "Nope, not this one. She's a nightmare to work with, I had her fired last month. Does anybody apart from me pay attention to what happens at this magazine?!" she yelled, giving the man an evil eye. He shuddered.

"I'll have an array of different head-shots on your desk within the hour, Miss Lopez." He mumbled, picking up the picture from the floor and scurrying out of the room, allowing another hopeful employee to enter the room and talk to Santana.

Days like this made the Latina question why she worked here. There never seemed to be anything that her people could take care of themselves, it's like their brains disappeared as soon as they stepped into her office. Sure enough, her intimidating persona and good looks often made people forget what they wanted to say, but this was getting ridiculous.

She greeted most of her workforces with a small nod and a rub of her temples, before trying to pretend to care about what they wanted, while controlling the need to punch more than half of them in the face.

When lunch time eventually came by, Santana was more than ready to take her hour and a half break away from all this chaos.

Just as she was gathering her stuff, there was a soft knock at her door, and she couldn't stop the "what?!" coming from her lips.

There was hesitation on the other side, but a few seconds later, the intern from that morning entered her office, a small pile of new female model head-shots in his hands. "The head-shots, Miss Lopez."

Sighing loudly, the petite brunette stepped out from behind her desk and grabbed her beige trench coat, shrugging it on. "Leave them on my desk, I'll look over them when I'm back." She commanded, not waiting for him to complete the task, before she left the room.

There was a cold breeze outside, but Santana appreciated the fresh air and surprisingly, the loud roar of ongoing traffic. It was a nice distraction. Quickly glancing at her watch, the Latina smiled as she walked across the street to one of her favourite Italian restaurants.

"Lopez, for two." She mumbled as she walked through the door, immediately being escorted to one of their best tables in a quiet corner of the restaurant. The table was empty, but Santana wasn't surprised. She was always early, and Quinn often tended to be late. Leaving her jacket on one of the chairs, she went to the bathroom to touch up her make-up. When she came back, the blonde was sitting at their table.

The two women grinned at each other, the slightly taller girl getting up to give Santana a tight hug. It lasted a few seconds longer than your standard hug, but the two were always the closest of friends. Quinn beamed at the Latina.

"How are you, honey? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." They sat down, smiling at each other for a moment, before opening up their menus even though they both knew what they were going to order. "Of course by forever, I mean since your wedding, but that's longer than usual, nonetheless."

Nodding, a little ashamed by not having spoken to the blonde much since, Santana cleared her throat. "I've been a bit busy, since. You know, the honeymoon was a no phone zone for two weeks, and I've been working hard-core ever since I got back." She explained with a soft shrug.

Reaching over the table, the blonde wrapped her hand over Santana's, giving it a little squeeze. "How _was_ the honeymoon?" she asked carefully, knowing and understanding the Latina's feelings about the wedding. Quinn was Santana's oldest friend, and she knew almost everything about her life. She knew about the incident which haunted her since she was a little girl, the incident which her father would never let her forget about.

She saw the Latina struggle through it, and was there for her regardless of the situation. They were more than just best friends and they often said, that in some sense of the word, they were soulmates.

"It was…" she paused, shrugging a little. "It was better than I expected, you-" She paused, seeing the approaching waiter.

"What can I get for you ladies?" he smiled, recognising them. Whenever they met up, the two always came here.

"We'll both have our usual, and a bottle of your best red wine." Quinn ordered for them both, and they handed him back the menus. He nodded politely, before turning on his heel and going to cash in the order.

A moment of silence followed, and the women looked at each other, small smiles dancing on both their lips.

"Anyway…" the brunette broke the silence, taking a nibble of the bread just placed on their table. "It was okay, St Lucia is an incredible place." She grinned, proceeding to go on a five minute rant about how great the beaches were, and how warm the wind felt when they were walking around the city.

Quinn smiled more to herself as she watched the Latina talk. It was nice to see her happy and excited about something for once. Ever since she had found out about her marriage to Sam, she'd been different. Whenever she smiled or laughed, it never reached her eyes like it always did before.

Soon their appetisers were gone and their main dishes placed on the table in front of them. They always got things that they knew the other liked too, and were able to steal and exchange some. They talked and laughed until their food was gone from their plates and the waiter came back with dessert menus. Santana peaked at her watch and knew she should be going back.

"Maybe a quick one." She mumbled, seeing Quinn's slightly disappointed face once she realised the Latina would probably be leaving now.

They ordered a dessert to share, and continued on with their conversation.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you." Santana said, a half embarrassed, half sheepish smile gracing her face. She could always tell Quinn anything without worrying she was going to judge her, or tell anyone. "There is, uh… there _was_ this girl, I guess?" She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her napkin.

She looked up to see a curious Quinn staring at her. "I went to Strike Two, that club you told me about?" she smiled softly. "And uh, I mean I've never been to strip club before, you know, I don't usually have troubles meeting women, so I'm not exactly sure how they're supposed to work, but are they supposed to sleep with you?" she asked, her caramel cheeks burning a deep red.

Santana wasn't ever shy about these things, she didn't know why she was being this way about this particular conversation. She always spoke to Quinn about her sexual adventures and it always went much smoother than this; occasionally ending up with the two of them in bed, but that's beside the point. They hadn't been together since the Latina found out she'd be marrying Sam.

The blonde's jaw dropped in shock, and her mouth formed a small o. "She slept with you?!" she exclaimed louder than she should have, causing a few curious heads to turn their way. She turned around to shoo the audience away, before turning back to the Latina. "No, that's definitely not supposed to happen!" she shook her head, forking up some of their chocolate soufflé.

"She actually came to my wedding, I'm not sure if you saw her. She stepped in on my dance with my father." The brunette mumbled, also turning to the dessert.

"What? That's unbelievable." She was very expressive with her fork. Santana reached over, placing her hand on Quinn's, calming her and placing the fork down. "Does she like you? Do you like her? Are you going to see her again?" The string of questions shot out of the blonde's lips like bullets, slightly sharper than they should have been.

Santana frowned, taken aback by her best friend's reaction. "What's with the third degree, Q?"

Quinn sighed, looking at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you."

"I know, honey. But I've got it under control. I haven't even seen her since the wedding." Santana waved the matter off, ending the conversation. They finished their soufflé and the Latina paid for their lunch, despite Quinn's arguments. "You'll get it next time." She mumbled, but both of them knew she wouldn't let it happen then, either.

Saying their goodbyes, they hugged and the blonde leaned in to peck Santana's cheek, landing a bit too close to the corner of her bee stung lips, to be considered just a friendly kiss. Quinn was always more friendly with her than anyone else; it must be the twenty plus years of friendship.

"I'll see you next week." Quinn smiled, squeezing Santana's hand, before walking off into the opposite direction of the Latina's work place.

* * *

><p>"You're shitting me! This was supposed to be done two weeks ago!" Santana yelled into her phone, almost feeling the person on the other end of the line cringing. "Okay, look." She took a deep breath and a sip of her fifth coffee that day. "You're going to do exactly as I say, and you're going to do it right now, got it?" She spoke slowly into the receiver. "You're going to get your ass out of your house, you're going to come back into your office, and you're going to send these papers off. We were supposed to get approved for this photo-shoot by fucking yesterday, you moron!" With that, she hang up. She knew the woman on the receiving end would be too scared to call back, and would just come in, doing what she was supposed to have done a long time ago.<p>

It was the end of the day, and the brunette couldn't have been more stressed. There was so much work that should have been done while she was on her honeymoon that people weren't bothered to do, or forgot about, and it was all on her shoulders now. Santana to the rescue. She peeked at her desk clock and sighed loudly. It was ten at night, and she was still drowning in papers. Shaking her head, she organised them into neat piles and put them away into her drawers. "I will deal with this tomorrow." She spoke to no one in particular, as she got dressed and left her office.

Sam was probably waiting for her at home, furious that she hadn't called saying she would be late, but she honestly couldn't care less.

The Latina's car had broken down that morning, resulting with her having to take the public transport to and from work that day; that was something she hadn't done in literally years.

Picking the most isolated part of the train to sit in, Santana put in her ear phones, Amy Winehouse blasting through them, and took out the small file of head-shots she was supposed to have looked over today.

Flicking through them, she mentally said no to the first ten, putting them on the seat beside her. The next few went into the maybe pile. She had an idea of what she wanted for this photo-shoot, and none of these ladies were it. "Alright, you're my last hope." She mumbled to herself, displaying the last picture in the pile.

Santana's jaw dropped, and the picture nearly dropped out of her hands.

Staring at her, with a perfect smile, bright, sparkling eyes and a nose dusted with light freckles, was Brittany. Brittany Susan Pierce, according to the back of the picture. She was twenty-four, Santana's age. She didn't have much modelling background, but promised an incredible portfolio. This had to be a joke.

Looking for her number on the back off the head-shot, Santana dialled it immediately, her anger and annoyance already building up. After two dial tones, a soft 'what's up' sounded in her ear and the Latina instantly calmed.

"Hello Brittany, it's Santana…" she mumbled into the phone, receiving silence in return.

"Santana… how did you get my number? Are you going to press charges against me? I'm sorry about causing trouble at your wedding, can we just forget the whole thing? I won't bother you again."

"I'm the assistant editor at Couture Magazine, you left us one of your head-shots." Santana's tone left little to the imagination; she demanded an explanation.

Another silence. "Wait, what? You work for Couture Magazine? Are you kidding?"

Santana had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. "No, I'm not kidding, Brittany. So this isn't some sort of joke on your part? You didn't know I work here?" she asked, sudden relief flooding through her body at the shocked tone of Brittany's voice.

"No, of course not! I gave in my head shot a couple of months ago, I never thought I'd hear back from you guys. I just wanted to give it a shot." She trailed off, her voice getting quieter. Santana wondered how someone as breath taking as Brittany could have even an ounce of self-doubt.

Sighing, she let herself think for a moment. Santana was sure that working in a strip joint wasn't Brittany's dream, no matter how good she was at it. There were things she wanted out of life, and she actually had an opportunity to help the blonde realise them.

"Come by the magazine tomorrow afternoon, if you can manage. Tell the reception that you spoke to me, they'll send you right to my office." With that, she hang up.

* * *

><p>The next day couldn't come by fast enough. Brittany had already told every one of her friends and close family members that she would be going to a meeting with Couture Magazine tomorrow afternoon, even though she knew she would probably jinx it this way. She just couldn't help herself. Trying out for this magazine was a huge deal for her, and she couldn't afford to mess it up. Being able to see Santana all at the same time was just an added bonus.<p>

She dressed in her best clothes; the ones that portrayed her cuteness and professionalism equally. A black pencil skirt and a cream floral blouse now hugged her body in all the right places. Brittany put on some very light make-up for that 'natural' look, spicing it up with some pink lipstick. Perfect.

Looking herself over in the mirror one last time, the blonde shrugged on a beige cover up and left her house.

More than anything else on the planet, Brittany loved her bicycle. It was easy transportation and cost nothing at all to get around in. It was fast and great exercise to keep her in shape for the club. Her city bike was a baby blue colour and reflected her perfectly, and the only thing missing from it was a basket up front.

Making her way uptown, Brittany stopped in front of Couture Magazine's main building which she ever only admired from the outside; even when giving in her head-shot, she had to slip it into a pigeon hole outside.

Locking up her bike, the blonde looked at the building full of awe, smiling to herself. As she pushed through the revolving door, she put on her most serious face and walked up to the reception desk. "Hi, I'm Brittany Pierce, I have a meeting with Santana Lopez." She mumbled, tapping her fingers on the island between them.

The receptionist was typing away on her computer, chewing gum loudly. Brittany cleared her throat. "What?" She demanded, raising an eyebrow in annoyance.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Brittany Pierce for an appointment with Santana Lopez."

The girl, whose name was Chloe, according to the name tag, stifled a giggle and looked the blonde up and down. "You've got an appointment with Miss Lopez? Good luck." She scuffed sarcastically. "Her office is on the fourth floor, room 27. Knock and introduce herself, and she'll let you in."

Having too much nervous energy bouncing around her body, Brittany decided to take the stairs; the quick exercise would help her muscles look more defined.

Reaching the fourth floor as instructed, Brittany marched down some corridors until she found room 27 with a huge "Santana Lopez, Editor in Chief" sign on the door. She smiled softly, taking a deep breath. Knock, knock, knock. "It's Brittany, may I come in?" the blonde asked, trying her hardest to sound as professional and calm as possible, despite her heart beating so fast it could break out of her rib cage.

"Come on in." Deep breath.

Brittany stepped into Santana's office, the blonde tried not focusing on the smaller woman just yet, instead trying not to trip over her own feet. She sat down in the chair opposite the Latina's, finally making eye contact. "Hey, Santana…"

"Good afternoon, Brittany. Let's get straight to it. I think your head-shot is incredible and honestly, I think you're the perfect model for this shoot. You've got the face and you've definitely got the body. Do you have any problems with working in a bikini? We're doing a spread on upcoming summer trends."

Santana's formality was killing her. She was business-y and cold, like nothing had ever happened between them. Brittany frowned, remembering their last encounter; it was on the opposite spectrum from this one. The blonde was startled for a moment, lost in her own thoughts.

Brittany had a reply ready in her head, but the words that left her lips were not what she expected. "What are you doing, Santana? Why are you pretending like you don't know me? Like I'm another employee and you've never seen me outside of this building? I deserve better than that, after everything that's happened." She spoke, her voice getting louder with every word.

The brunette's eyes widened, and she stood up, closing in on Brittany. "Calm down. Can we not do this here? It's my work place, I have a reputation to uphold." She answered coldly, grabbing the blonde's arm, and leading her into a smaller room within her office and closing the door behind them.

It was an office within an office. The tiny room was filled floor to ceiling with old magazines, boxes and snippets pinned to walls. It was Santana's private little stash room.

"Look, Brittany…" she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't treat you differently than I did in there, okay? I'm a married woman… and I know you're not just any other employee, but I can't be thinking about that. I'm not. What happened at that club and at my wedding, isn't something that can stay on my mind. It can't be something that affects how I treat you." She looked up, straight into Brittany's eyes. "It didn't mean anything, okay?"

The blonde gave out a cold, sarcastic chuckle. "Please. I've had more make out sessions than I'd like to admit, trust me, I know when a kiss means something. Yours were no ordinary kisses. I could feel the passion in your lips, Santana. Don't tell me I don't mean anything to you. Don't lie to me." Her voice was pleading now.

Santana shook her head. "I'm not lying…"

Brittany took a few steps forward, stopping inches away from the brunette. Her eyes danced between Santana's glare and her plum lips. Leaning in, she gave her the softest kiss, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Tell me that doesn't mean anything to you." Silence.

Reaching down, she grabbed Santana's hands and gave them a squeeze. "Look, just have lunch with me, okay? We can talk about this more." The blonde whispered, her lips brushing against Santana's.

Looking up, Santana shook her head. "No, Brittany." She moved back, pulling her hands away from the blonde's. Clearing her throat, the Latina straightened her back and in a second became the most professional version of herself.

"If you want this job, this is what's going to happen. No looks, no kisses, no hand holding. I'm your boss. I'm your married boss, and if you can't accept that, then there's nothing I can do for you. It's your choice…" she trailed off, walking out of the room and sitting behind her desk, leaving Brittany with a few seconds to herself.

When she emerged, her eyes seemed watery, but her face was stern. "I want the job."

Santana nodded. "Good choice. My assistant Sophie will give you a call with the details soon. Have a good day." And with that, the Latina's nose was once again buried in paperwork, and Brittany was walking out of the building, holding back tears.


End file.
